


Who We Trust To Carry Us

by Mandergee



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, I'm sorry I swear it, Mild rewrite of ending, SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2 EPISODE 4 "Face My Enemy", not graphic torture, trauma due to torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-21 10:29:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2464955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mandergee/pseuds/Mandergee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time is limited and trust is rare- but Phil Coulson knows exactly who it is he can trust. But sometimes they need to be carried, and he'll do it as long as he's able.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who We Trust To Carry Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Melinda-Qiaolian](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Melinda-Qiaolian).



> Contains spoilers for season 2 episode 4, "Face My Enemy".  
> I took a snatch of dialogue from the end and rewrote it a smidge, worked it into this scene.
> 
> This one was started for Oparu, who expressed a need for Coulson's jacket on Agent May. I adore your fics, so I hope this fulfills the need! :)
> 
> I also used a lovely bit of dialogue from Melinda-Qiaolian on a Tumblr post (I hope it's okay!!). As predicted, the angst will flow freely in the tag today.

“It's too bad we couldn't get the shoes.” He'd refused to let her drive, could see her subtle wince as May slipped into the passenger seat and the leather stuck briefly to bare skin riddled with bruises and burns. Whatever Hydra had done she hadn't spoken of it, had taken his arm when offered and limped into the night until they'd reached the safety of the SUV. He'd wanted to offer to carry her, was reminded of the days he'd been forced to ignore her requests and hoist her up into his arms, but knew this time she'd never take it. “You could at least have something on your feet- the asphalt isn't all that forgiving.”

“I'm fine.” The bruise on her jaw was distinct as they passed beneath a streetlight on the highway, and her skin still glistened with sweat despite the cold air circulating through the closed space. May had gone through a lot in a few short hours, the marks that stood out against her skin telling him some the story he needed to know, and for a moment he wondered what else might have happened if he'd never realized that the woman who had held his hand wasn't who he'd thought. “Just drive.”

“It's going to be a while before we get back- why don't you get some rest?” She shifted and he saw a burn he hadn't noticed yet, a vicious black mark once covered by the purple satin of her slip and visible now as the strap slid down the curve of her shoulder. Scars from years past were hidden and he didn't need to see them to know they were there, to remember that he knew every inch of her skin better than he knew his own. But May didn't talk about battles, had never told him about so many of her scars- inside  _or_ out, and even though he knew someday she'd tell him...he was also aware that they were running out of time. “May. What did they do to you?”

“You said there were little things-” May had always been so good at changing the subject and lately he'd fought her on it but this time would be different, and as he watched her shift position again Coulson wondered if there was something more to the torture than the visible scars. And it hurt, in the depths of his belly, to think that she'd hide it. “Things that made you realize she wasn't me. Tell me. What did she do?”

“She held my hand. In the car, she held my hand.” He steered easily past a construction site, beneath a series of floodlights that made her skin paler than he'd ever seen it, caught the subtle sparkles in the makeup around her eyes and the moisture that clung to long eyelashes. Even before, May hadn't been the emotional type, and for a second he wondered if reaching for her hand wouldn't break the careful hold she had on the feelings she was keeping hidden. The simple act spoke volumes to most people, but with Hydra's approximation of May it had been misplaced- not in keeping with the way Melinda May would handle a moment like that. He could be grateful, Coulson thought, that they didn't know her the way he did. 

The silence filled the car and he concentrated on the road, felt cool air circulate from the air conditioning and ruffle the hair on his chest that just barely peered out from the gap in his shirt. By now he was sure she was cold, the tension in her jaw visible by the line of it, but trauma and chill often presented similar reactions that he couldn't differentiate. And even if she denied it he was well aware of the effects trauma  _had_ on Melinda May- had seen it once before and never wanted to again. 

“You let her?”

“I thought it was you.”

“That's how you knew?” Maybe it was pain he heard- he couldn't be sure as he pulled into the hangar, up the ramp and sat in the bay with the engine purring quietly. He'd always had a feeling for May that he could never quite explain, never quite could put a name to when necessity arose and suddenly his life needed to be defined in order to know what direction he was taking with it...before it all went dark. What was he supposed to do with an unrequited need for someone when he was only going to become a danger to himself and others? “Phil, I don't- I can't do what you want me to do.”

“I know. But you need to, May. I don't have anyone I can trust to make the hard choice- you're the only one I can depend on to give S.H.I.E.L.D leadership when I'm gone, the only one who can see the bigger picture the way I do. Do it for me. Please.”

As he turned the key, silenced the engine and the bay plunged into stillness, he could see the aftereffects of the day slowly starting to take hold. His words seemed to sink in as her eyes welled up with fresh tears, rolling down her cheeks and tracing pathways through the makeup that still managed to cling to her face despite exertion and time. As he climbed out, walked to her door and opened it, her large brown eyes stared up at him and he knew that what he felt wasn't unrequited at all, but characteristically May in the simple fact that she didn't need words to show him how she felt.

“Here. Take my jacket.” As she stepped out of the car he slipped the suit jacket over her shoulders, drew it closed and fastened buttons to hide the elegant drape of purple satin from view. He felt her hand slide into his, squeezing for a brief moment before she let go and strode ahead of him into the depths of the plane and out of sight. May would handle things the way she always did- alone- and he'd let her, but as she would with him he'd keep a careful eye out for the chance she might fall and need to be carried just long enough to regain her strength.

There wasn't long left for him to carry anyone, and if he could choose- he'd choose her.


End file.
